


Lovely Figurines on the Chessboard

by InanimateEyes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Louis is an Anti-Royalist, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InanimateEyes/pseuds/InanimateEyes
Summary: Unable to commit to a future he does not want, Prince Harry abandons his fiancée at the altar. Media attention sky rockets and forces Harry to flee London in search of some privacy while the Queen and Gemma sort out the mess he's created. The young prince can't help but take intrigue with the estate book collector, a young man with beautiful blue eyes and a foul mouth
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

_ Princess Cecily was anything but forgettable. Handmade lace, imported jewels, and heavy tiaras may have decorated her body, but the hard fixed gaze she gave let everyone know who she was. She had always been his favorite aunt -- his only fun relative -- that permitted him to take a break from his boorish etiquette lessons in favor of more ‘practical’ knowledge with her.  _

_ It had been one of those days, Cecily had rescued him from another lesson where a tutor was trying to impress Algebra… or Grammar… or, well ,something horrible upon him. Harry’s knight dressed in satin had strode in and dismissed the tutor, but instead of going on any adventure she took residence upon the tutor’s desk. Cecily removed her glasses and Harry could see that her eyes were bloodshot.  _

_ “Never sacrifice your life for this damn crown, one day when you're old and decrepit you’ll see that it was all for naught.” She murmured, lighting a cigarette, her hands trembling as it raised the cigarette to her lips. The sickly sweet stench of the cigarette smoke clung to her like a perfume and Harry could not separate the scent from the image of his aunt. This time her favorite accessory did little to sedate her emotions and she walked around the class room instead. Her emotions a storm as she considered the books that were crowded upon the bookshelf. If Harry had not known better, he would've sworn that his aunt had been crying with her face hidden from his view.  _

_ Only weeks later, when her assistant had found her unresponsive in her bed. After a lifetime of disappointments, what had driven her to death was chain-smoking but Harry knew that her increasing unimportance to the Crown had been at the heart of all issues.  _

_ The young prince stared up at the portrait of the late princess, hoping that her cool amber eyes would give him some reassurance. It was no use, had she been alive today Aunt Cecily would call him a fool for looking for comfort in inanimate objects. _

_Soft raps upon the door halted his train of thought._

_ “Prince Harry,” his assistant called through the door, a note of anxiety creeping its way into her voice. The minutes before the wedding were dwindling down and Harry still showed no intent to leave the comforts of his chamber. Harry knew he had an obligation to the man waiting at the altar, but more importantly to his Mother and Gemma… and by default the entirety of England. But the idea of giving his life away to something bigger than him, held him fast to his seat at the vanity. “It’s most important that we depart immediately if we are to make it to St. Paul’s Cathedral on schedule.”  _

_ “I’ll be right out.” Harry snapped, hands trembling he looked over his wedding tux. Shame and regret immediately washed over him in waves, compounding with his anxiety and drowning him in the ocean of his misery.  _

_ Carefully, Harry scanned his appearance in the mirror. A soft curl had strayed from the slicked back style his mother had requested. Hands shaking he moved to remedy the issue, brushing the lock back into place but it only sprang back towards its place beside his brow. Sheer rage blinded him and Harry slammed the brush upon his vanity, disturbing pictures and trinkets with his anger. Even such an asinine predicament refused to be solved. A new anger raged to life within Harry, it felt ridiculous that months ago he had been a willing participant in this whole charade. Eagerly planning out the details of the ceremony fully knowing that it would guarantee a lifetime of unhappiness. Harry had desperately tried to feel some sort of devotion to the Heir Apparent of Spain to himself and the public. But the reminder of what Britain stood to gain from this marriage always bubbled to the forefront of discussion. Harry couldn't blame the public, he could hardly convince himself that he wanted this.  _

_ He could only see two realistic outcomes to this scenario: take an unsuspecting lover in his late 30's or resign himself to the idea that he would never be more than a means to an end for his husband. At the ripe age of 18 the idea of never knowing real love stung beyond measure.  _

_ His chest tightened. His eyes welled.  _

**_Stoicism._ ** _ Harry chided himself, but he didn’t have the heart to truly fix his disposition. _

_ Stoic is what the Queen would ask her son to be in the face of the emotional strife; Princes did not have the luxury to shrug off duty.  _

_ Reality was as heavy as the crown upon his head. Everything was so wrong and he couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the knot of his tie pressed flush against his Adam's apple. He realized that this was his last opportunity to escape this marriage.  _

_ The most important lesson his Aunt had ever given him resounded in his head.  _

**_"Never sacrifice your life for the Crown."_ **

_She had been so broken that even a child's eyes could read her pain._

_ Duty be damned, he wasn’t even the heir apparent to his own monarchy. He had some importance, but he wasn't terribly vital to the regime. Surely his happiness would be more important to his mother than relations with Spain.  _

_ It was what Aunt Cecily would want him to do. _

_ Yes, this was the only way. He would have to ask for forgiveness, but it was  _ **_the only way_ ** _. _

_ With one last look in the mirror, Harry smoothed out any remaining imperfections. If Harry was to escape, he would have to maintain the charade until he could slip away to the confines of his room in Buckingham Palace.  _

_ “Lilian” Harry called back, his heart squeezed with guilt for the trouble he would be placing upon her shoulders. But for once the crown did not feel so heavy upon his head and his shoulders did not ache with exhaustion from his posture, because the end was near. “Would you help me with the veil?”  _

_ If Harry hadn’t been so anxious to escape the situation, he would have marveled at the intricacies within the material that blurred his vision.  _

_ "Perhaps one day, I'll be given the chance to do this all the proper way," Harry thought to himself.  _

_ The beauty of it all was lost upon him as he was corralled into the waiting vehicle where his driver was waiting. _

_ “Where to, your Royal Highness?” Joseph joked, already pulling off in the direction of St. Paul's.  _

_ “Away from here.”  _

_ A soft chuckle filled the cab, but when Harry didn’t reply Joseph stared at the prince from the rearview mirror. Not for the first time, Harry was relieved to have trusty Joseph in his life. He pulled away in the direction of Buckingham despite the alarmed yells of those gathered outside Harry’s London flat.  _

_ “Not a problem, sir.” _


	2. Chapter 2

**_Run-Away Groom: A Scandal Brewing in Buckingham?_ **

_Only two days ago the nation bore witness to the most scandalous case of cold feet the press has ever seen. Prince Harry, age 19, was set to marry Prince Nicolás of Spain, age 23, however the young Prince of Wales never made it to the altar. While there is still no official statement from the palace press secretary, close friends and family have cited a new relationship between Prince Harry and a junior staff member in the palace to be the source of the sudden change of heart._

**_Cont. on Pg. 5_ **

“This one is no good either,” Gemma sighed, tossing the latest copy of _The Sunday Times_ aside to rest atop the tabloids. “It appears even the most reputable sources have thrown out ethics in favour of understanding the whims and wants of the likes of you, younger brother...”

Anne sighed and pulled open _The New York Times_ from a selection of international papers. “Ah, well at least the Americans are sympathetic towards you. They can’t seem to believe that the engagement came from a place of mutual interest in the first place.”

The humor was dry, but as long as his mother could joke her opinion of him wasn’t completely broken. At least that’s what Harry told himself.

“Well not unless you consider the mutual interest for our respective nations.” Harry murmured, too busy nursing his morning tea to actually consider any of the papers himself. The careful art of creating the perfect cup of tea was enough to keep him preoccupied and settle his nerves. After much deliberation Harry dropped two heaping spoonfuls of sugar into his tea, the soft _clicks_ of his spoon against the teacup as he stirred did wonders to soothe his nerves. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the grimace on his sister's face as she tried to gauge his emotions. Gemma’s concern was blatantly etched across her features, the corners of her lips turned down and unblinking eyes trained upon him. There was no doubt in his mind that Gemma was dissecting and analyzing his behavior, but he did not wish to know her prognosis based on his indulgence of a sweeter cup of tea. 

“Speaking of respecting countries,” Gemma probed. “Have you spoken to the Wall?” She attempted to remain diplomatically blank-faced while she awaited his response, but her furrowed eyebrows failed to heed the memo. 

“Yes,” Harry’s heart pounded, suddenly unable to be so honest with his mother about what he wanted. Honesty towards his sister was an entirely different manner, but he couldn’t help but feel betrayed by her lack of digression. Gemma snorted at his lack of noncommittal response, earning a reprimanding stare from the Queen. 

Harry considered Nicolas and how best to describe how properly boring he was; for all the manners and culture possessed he had about the charm and personality of a cinder brick. Hence the affectionate nickname Gemma had bestowed upon the Prince. 

Harry had contacted Nicolas, on the evening of their wedding when they had been scheduled to depart to a private Greece island. He had hoped the prince wouldn’t be furious, but the other end of the line was silent and reserved. Anger would have been far better than the unreadable silence. 

Harry had rambled desperately for a few minutes, hoping something would provoke a response. When he finally fell silent, Nicolas had only stated “I’m willing to reconsider a wedding, so long as you agree to change some terms of the agreement.” before the line went dead. 

For all the embarrassment that had burned within Harry, he had felt vindicated knowing that he had made the right choice. To spend the rest of his life alongside a man so uncaring would tear Harry apart, he was still youthfully willing to experience the highs and lows of love. 

Gemma cleared her throat expectantly awaiting a real answer. 

“Yea, he’s shockingly not terribly keen on me at the moment,” Harry tried again, making eye-contact with Gemma to convey the farce. With a curt nod she dropped the subject in favor of going back towards the stack of papers that still hadn’t been read while she mulled over the situation. It was an unspoken promise that she would follow up with him later. 

The family of three sat there for a while, hands and minds occupied with their own fixation on the situation at hand. Harry sipping his tea, desperately trying to keep the elation of freedom off his mind so he could be as somber as the rest of his family. The institution of monarchy had always been ensured as a given to the royal family and the public as well, but it was in times like these that they realized how much of their existence relied on public opinion. The family sat this way uninterrupted long past the allotted time for breakfast, until a group of footmen rolled in the television. 

“You Royal Highness, pardon the intrusion, but I heard you hadn’t left for your office-- and well you may want to see this.” The Queen’s personal aide strode in, his voice violently shattering the silence in the dining room. A soft click of the remote and the hum of a unit coming to life filled the silence before a tabloid outlet burned into the room. 

_“Be sure to tune in for all developing news, after the commercial break we’ve got an exclusive shot of Prince Harry boarding a mysterious yacht just weeks before the royal wedding. Could this perhaps be a lover of the young prince?”_

Another loud snort emerged from Gemma’s side of the table. “I’m sorry,” Gemma croaked out, still in the midst of a laughing fit while the Queen shot her a withering glance. “But isn’t that dear cousin Liam’s yacht? Oh look, they’ve even cropped me out to make an innocent celebration more scandalous.”

“How does it feel to be second in-line for once,” Harry teased. Although he had never truly been jealous of the spotlight, being largely ignored by the mainstream media in favour of following the future queen’s life had never felt great. Granted, he had been a child so there wasn’t much excitement in following him anyways. 

“Ohh, how I miss the lime-light,” Gemma deadpanned. “Anyways, this doesn’t seem horribly harmful to his image. It’ll all be thrown out in time.”

“That’s just the problem, without an official narrative for what occurred the press is running rampant with any lead presented to them even though it falls apart under any scrutiny.” Thomas remarked flipping through the various news channels, snippets of sentences peeked through all speculating on Harry’s lovelife. They painted these elaborate affairs for the prince, deep down in Harry’s heart he wished he could say he left Nicolas at the altar for something as exciting as love. “As you can see, they’re floundering. With all due respect, your Majesty, we need to feed the press a narrative.”

The Queen sighed, a heavy and disheartening sound to Harry’s ears. “We’ll be in contact with Prince Nicholas and King William today. Tell the press secretary that she can notify the media outlets for a press conference tomorrow morning.” Dismissed, Thomas hurried out of the room eager to disseminate the new information among his colleagues. Behind him trailed the footmen, wheeling out the TV. The silence hung in the air, heavy as the three waited for the other to speak first. 

“Mum,” Gemma started timidly, clearly testing the waters before she sacrificed herself for her brother. 

“Hmm?” The Queen responded absentmindedly, finally abandoning the seedy outlets that discussed her son and towards her debriefing articles on more pressing commonwealth matters. 

“I think it might be best if Harry disappears to the countryside while we sort this matter out,” Gemma reached under the table to squeeze Harry’s arm in encouragement. “Maybe he can stay at Pemberley while you and I sort this out.”

Harry’s heart nearly soared, leave it to Gemma to offer him the opportunity for the perfect summer while she helped sort out this logistical nightmare. The estate, that was so fondly called Pemberley by the Styles siblings, was aptly named for its uncanny resemblance to the fictional manner owned by Mr. Darcy. Technically the property was still under the management of his father’s family, although they had long abandoned occupying the estate in favor of more upscale properties when their family had married into royalty. No, no one would bother him there and he could spend another summer pretending he had never been born into royalty. 

It was not the first time that the Prince believed his sister was a genius. 

“Very well,” the Queen sighed, unable to separate the disappointment in her voice. “I was hoping you would want to take this as your trial run to your official responsibilities, but I suppose we can get on without you until we nip this situation in the bud.”

This was going over a lot easier than Harry had expected, far less teeth pulling than anticipated. Elated, he stood abruptly, the heavy chair getting pushed back to make a horrid scraping noise against the wood floor. His mother and Gemma wince and a soft pink flooded Harry’s cheeks as he gathered his belongings from the table.

“Sorry,” he mumbled softly, hearing the phantom voices of old teachers who had long tried to rid him of the overwhelming enthusiasm synonymous. But he wasn’t really sorry as turned to leave, abandoning protocol and dismissing himself from the room. His long, wide strides he took felt far too slow as he desired to run to his room in Buckingham and rearrange his life to fit into suitcases.

...

The rest of the morning had felt ridiculously short as Harry rushed to organize the necessities he would need for his eager banishment from the chaos he had wrecked in Buckingham. He wished for no intrusion on the delusion that he had no obligations beyond himself so he wanted to be thorough with his packing. Going as far to dismiss Lily from her duties for the rest of the day and allowing her to stay in London with her family while he way away. A holiday for them both. 

“Knock, Knock!” Gemma cheered, she leaned against the door frame both hands outstretched to block any escape Harry could make. Not that he had shown any sign of fleeing this conversation, but it appeared that the dramatics of the scandal had reawakened his sister's dramatic flair. “Time to tell me all of your dirty secrets!”

“I think it’s important that you know that you could have simply knocked instead of saying the words ‘knock, knock’” Harry imitated his mother's accent, but quickly abandoned the bit as his attention was better spent focused on his toiletry bag. He had been negotiating how best to situate the contents without bursting the seams of the bag for the better part of an hour and still had made no headway. Suddenly the bag was ripped from his hands and Gemma dumped out all of Harry’s hard work on his bed before throwing herself on the bed and going to work on packing the contents.

“Thank you.” Harry sighed exasperated and sat at the foot of the bed watching her accomplish what he could not. 

“You’re welcome, Harry. You could do me a similar kindness by enlightening me on your thoughts on this whole situation." Her hands flailed around dramatically as she gestured. "If I’m going to be in that room as your proxy it would be a great help to know what’s really going on.” It all seemed so clear when she laid it out like that. A clear and simple plan with no room for convolution, but still Harry knew it couldn’t be that simple. He only needed the summer to figure out his next step and then he could bear the whole truth out for his family and after that the world. 

How many summers had he wasted in the empty Balmoral Castle worrying over the implications of family dynamics and playing manipulative little mind games with the poor guests who had been invited to spend the summer in the company of his extended family. It was positively insufferable. He preferred spending that time alone in his room but there was always some kind obligation to wander those cold halls with some older relative or occupy a chair in the parlor room for the sake of tradition. How could every summer be so simultaneously suffocating and lonely?

He absolutely loathed Balmoral Castle and couldn't help but feel as if it was to blame for all of his problems. Harry knew that life wasn't that simple, but it would be far more simple to place his resentment on that Castle. 

The silence must have gone on for too long as Gemma had abandoned her task in favor of staring at him, expectantly waiting for something to work with. 

“Time!” Harry finally blurted out, the anxiety he felt worked its way through his body and settled at his hands. Nervously Harry began picking at the seam in his cuffs as he scrambled to find the words to elaborate.

“Time…” Gemma prompted, she zipped the toiletry bag closed and settled it within the confines of her brother's luggage. 

“Yes, time. I just need some time alone- and then I’ll come back and I resume my role.” 

Gemma sighed in response, needing her own time to go over the request. Harry knew that when Gemma had offered him Pemberley she had only meant for two weeks- maybe three if all went well. Harry’s hands decimated the cuff in the silence taking out his anxiety on the innocent thread by ripping and pulling at it until the raw seam was exposed once more. 

“Okay, time. I can try to get you a month-”

“No- Please, I need the summer at least.” Harry interrupted, grabbing his sister's hand with both of his own in desperation. He needed reparations for all the summers he had been robbed of in his youth. 

Gemma eyed him wearily before conceding. 

“Fine, you can have the summer.” Elation once more occupied his brain and he couldn't help but feel guilty for the cuff that he had destroyed in the uncertainty. He would have to send it off with Lily to go fixed at the seamstress before he departed. 

“Thank you so much, Gemma.” Harry hugged her tightly, hoping that someday he could pay her back for all the headaches he had caused his sister. 

“Of course,” she said, patting his back and then pulling away from the hug. "Well, I'm off! I'm due at a meeting with a particular monarch at one.”

"I am sorry, Gems" Harry mumbled, feeling guilty as he zipped his last bag of luggage shut. 

"I know." And with that she was off, leaving Harry alone with the resounding sound of her heels clicking on the floor. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Gemma had always taken to her responsibility so naturally. 


End file.
